


Memories

by Drachenkinder



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: A touch of melancholia, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Intersex Angrboða, Intersex Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drachenkinder/pseuds/Drachenkinder
Summary: A little snippet of Loki's first married life. Myth or Marvel take your pick. The first scene came to me in a dream and I wrote the rest from that subconscious prompt.Tags added and rating adjusted now that I'm actually awake.
Relationships: Angrboða | Angerboda/Loki (Norse Religion & Lore)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Memories

He’s a tall man, dark haired, lean and sharp featured in an attractive way. The sun picks out reddish highlights in his hair when he bends to pluck a handfull of golden chamomile flowers. As he drops them into his bag, a small furry creature bumbles out of the meadow grass and pounces on his left boot. He smiles and swings his foot into the air. The black wolf pup clings to it, gnawing the leather and growling furiously. The man dances about, laughing and attempting to shake his persistent attacker off. The pup finally loses its grip and rolls across the thick grass into a patch of meadowsweet, startling several blue-grey butterflies into the air. The puppy clambers back to its feet, shakes the dust and grass seed from its fur and gives an indignant bark. The man scoops it into his arms, ruffles its belly fur and kisses the top of its head. 

“Time we returned home.” The man says and settles the pup on his shoulder. 

A soft green light encompasses them and they fade from sight.

They reappear in the center of a rustic kitchen. The man sets the wolf pup on the floor and it follows him about the room as he fills a kettle, places it on the stove and lights the burner. He dumps the contents of his bag on the table and selects several of the herbs. The puppy again attacks his boot only to be warned off with a sharp, 

“That’s enough Fenrir.”

It sits down with a whine and watches as the man crushes the herbs between his hands releasing their pleasant odor and drops them into a teapot. He takes two large, yet delicate porcelain cups from the cupboard and pours honey into one. At a second whine he drops a dab of honey onto his finger and leans down to offer the sticky treat to the puppy, who licks it off eagerly, tail wagging. The man takes a knurled root from another cupboard and grates a small amount into the honeyed cup. The sharp spicy scent of ginger fills the air, along with the whistle of the kettle. He fills the pot, sets pot and cups on a tray and trying not to trip on the puppy bouncing between his feet, carries them into the next room.

On an overstuffed chair, her feet resting on a foot stool, a woman is dozing in a patch of morning sun. She is taller than the man by a good foot, broad across shoulders and hips and her features are strong and handsome. Laugh lines gather at the corners of her eyes and mouth, telling of a good humored temperament and her clay spattered hands are muscular and calloused. A large serpent lays over her shoulders and coils around the bulge of her pregnant belly. A serpent and yet not a serpent, for it has not the lidless eyes of a snake but the lidded ones of a lizard. They open as the man and pup enter the room and it watches them with an intense blue gaze.

The man places the tray on an end table, bends over and kisses the serpent on its head. “How is she this morning?” he asks.

“Muchhh betterrrr.” The serpent answers. “Ssshe ate breakfassst and wasss not ill. Ssshe threw a vassse earlier.”

“Mmm.” The woman murmurs. She stretches and opens her eyes. “That smells good.” Her eyes are the same cerulean hue as the serpent’s. 

The man pours out two cups and hands the woman the honey and gingered one and she breathes in the steam with a smile. 

“You’re a good man, Loki.” She says and takes a sip.

“Others would beg to differ, my love.” He answers and bends to pick up the pup, whose yips for attention are increasing in volume. “I know baby, you’re hungry.”

He settles into a worn sofa across from the giantess and undoes his tunic. “I’ll feed you, but not like this.” 

The wolf pup shimmers in his arms and becomes a fat, naked, black haired toddler, who promptly goes for Loki’s exposed nipple and starts nursing.

“I see he’s lost his clothes again.” The woman says. “I don’t suppose it was in the house.”

“In Alfheim I’m afraid. He was off in the brush when he shifted and they didn’t survive the transformation. I was able to retrieve his shoes.”

“I nevverrr tore up my clothesss.” The serpent said.

“That, my dear.” The woman answered, lifting the serpent from her shoulders and setting it on the floor. “Is because we couldn’t keep them on you when you were your brother’s age. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be weeding the garden?” Loki asked.

“I was keeping mother company.” The now ten year old boy answered. His transformation from snake to child was seamless and he smoothed down the front of his gray and gold patterned shift with an air of hauteur. 

“I’m her company now, off with you.” Loki answered and aimed a good natured swat at the boy’s rump. 

The boy dodged, stuck out his tongue and scampered away.

“Jormungandr is getting to be a pain in the ass.” Loki said.

“Takes after his father.” The woman commented.

“I don’t know about that. I seem to remember this arrogant, sassy giantess, now what was her name? Angr something?? Oh that’s right, Angrboda. I wonder what happened to her?”

“She married a handsome, shiftless, never-do-well and murdered him in his sleep.”

“Even after he brought her fresh herb and ginger root tea, all the way from Alfheim?”

“Well perhaps he gained a last minute pardon for his sins.”

“Hmmm. It’s for my sins that you love me, woman. It’s my virtues that you dislike.”

“Then it's a good thing you have so few of them.” Angrboda said with a chuckle. “Is Fenrir asleep?” 

“Mm hmm.” Loki said. 

“Then put him in his crib so we may contemplate your sins in more detail.”

Loki stood, cradling his son and extended his hand to his wife, helping her to her feet.

“That sounds interesting.” He said and tilted back his head for her kiss. His eyes were soft and his breath quicker when they stepped apart. “I do love a good theological discussion.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may have the kids' birth order wrong. but this is just a story and it works here. Yes he is Fenrir's mother and Angrboda is Fenrir's father. They took turns having the kids.


End file.
